


What if I like this reality?

by tomoewantsdolls



Series: Drarropoly 2.0 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Draco finds a dog, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Enemies to Friends, Harry notices Draco, M/M, Magical Accidents, Temporary Amnesia, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomoewantsdolls/pseuds/tomoewantsdolls
Summary: Harry keeps waking up feeling that something is off. It doesn't matter very much when he meets his neighbour, or does it?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarropoly 2.0 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558117
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112
Collections: Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest





	What if I like this reality?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: An accident leaves Harry and Draco in a world where they're both muggles living normal lives and don't know each other. Maximum: 950 words. (Prompt Inspo from "It's A Terrible Life" episode 17 season 4 of Supernatural.) 
> 
> House level: Include a dog. 
> 
> Hotel level: Include scenes from before the accident and after the accident is corrected. Choose either ~~1) Hogwarts -OR- 2) Auror Partners -OR- 3) Husbands -OR-~~ 4) Enemies.
> 
> Thanks Etalice for the beta work! 
> 
> (Any remaining mistake is my fault and mine alone)

It was 3 in the morning. Again. 

For the fourth night in a row, Harry sat on the bed wide awake while the stars shone merrily in the sky, the unsettling dreams already forgotten. He should have gone back to sleep, but he felt like he needed to be in another place entirely. 

Harry sighed, resigned to another bad night, and stood up. He decided that he wanted a hot chocolate. It probably wouldn't help with his insomnia, but at least, he would enjoy it. 

He couldn't remember when he started favouring it, but the first night he woke up covered in sweat wondering where he was and feeling like he was intruding in his own flat, he could only think about how he'd sold his soul for a mug of hot dark cocoa. So that night he put his coat over his pyjamas, wrapped his scarf around his neck and trotted down the stairs and out to the street. It was freezing, and the streets were deserted.

He walked to the nearest shop that opened at that ungodly hours and bought all that he needed… for a month.

Harry sat on the low windowsill with the warm mug cradled in his hands and was grateful for his foresight: tonight the city was covered in snow. He would have ended drenched, and with frozen feet. 

He wished he could have the ability to keep himself warm at all times, just wish it and you feel it: warmth around you, like a blanket, like… magic.

Suddenly, a window in the next building lit up. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

***

When his alarm clock went off he thought that it had to be a mistake. He was tired and absolutely not ready to be out of bed. 

With a groan, he got up when the alarm went off for a second time and rushed through his morning routine. He managed to exit the flat in record time, his toast still in his mouth. He was so distracted looking for his car key that he didn’t see the man standing on the sidewalk, waiting for his dog to stop sniffling the lamppost suspiciously.

"Oooff, sorry!" Harry said, trying to remain upright when they collided. 

The man pulled his scarf down and snarled at him. "Watch out, you idiot!"

Harry waved at him, apologetic, and run down the street to the place he parked last night. 

He was already tired for sleeping badly and the long day at work was just the icing of the cake. He parked some streets away from his flat and walked back home longing for his bed. 

He was wondering if sleeping on an empty stomach would wake him up in the middle of the night when something barreled between his legs and made him fall face first on the snow.

"Scarhead!" Someone yelled behind him. "Oh God, sorry, my dog ran behind some blasted cat… Oh, it's you."

Harry squinted at the man looming over him. Was he supposed to know him? His face was half-hidden behind a wool cap and a matching scarf, but then he pulled the scarf down and smirked. Oh. He was the man he met this morning. 

"I suppose this is what they call karma," he said, offering his hand and pulling Harry up. He kept smiling and didn't let go of it when Harry stood on his feet. Harry suspected he was extremely amused at his expense, but he had a nice smile and Harry was distracted by his eyes to really care; he couldn't make the exact colour in the dim light of the street. "I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, er, I'm Harry."

"Just Harry?"

"Potter. Harry Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry Potter. Now if you excuse me, I need to find my dog." 

"Scarhead?"

Draco grimaced, looking guilty. "It suits him, believe me."

"Ok, I'll go with you," he blurted. He didn't know why he'd said that. His muscles ached and his entire body begged for the bed in his flat; its soft mattress and its flannel sheets were as inviting as the best of luxuries. 

“No offence but you look knackered.”

Harry burst laughing. “None taken, you’re right, but I insist. Better have karma on my side.”

Draco smiled, small puffs of mist coming out of his mouth and nose. The cold air had his cheeks coloured pink. 

They found the dog, a bulky bulldog to be precise, in a side alley next to Harry’s building.

“What happened to him?” Harry asked at the sight of his scarred right eye. He had half ear missing too.

“I don’t know, I found him like this only some days ago. But if I had known he was going to be this problematic, I would have left him where I found him.”

“Is he?”

“Pigheaded and with more daring than common sense would advise.” Harry raised his eyebrows and Draco shrugged. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t abandon him in times of need, I’m not that heartless.”

“I didn’t say anything," Harry said raising his hands. 

Draco shrugged again. “Don’t mind me, I’m a bit defensive, that’s all,” he muttered. “Would you mind a cuppa? For the karmic equilibrium.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “But I should warn you, I could crash on your sofa in no time. Or at least, take a nap.”

Draco smiled back and guided Harry to a nearby building. “I don’t think this little guy would let you have much space. He has a tendency to occupy as much of the sofa as he can.” He said looking at the trotting dog beside him.

Draco’s flat was on the second floor of the building right next to Harry’s, but it was surprisingly bigger and posher than Harry’s one. In fact, Harry suspected the carpet in the living room might cost more than the entire furnishing in his flat. And that painting over the fireplace seemed like something that appeared in art books.

“Please don’t let yourself be impressed by my parents’ taste in decoration.”

“Oh, well, I’m impressed…” Harry faltered at the sight of the white-blond hair that appeared under the knitted cap. He’d never seen anything like that. “Er, I mean…”

“Coffee or tea?” Draco asked. “I’m going to make myself a hot chocolate.”

“Oh, that would be good!”

Draco grinned. “Do you have a sweet tooth too?”

They talked over a hot mug, Draco sitting in a comfy armchair and Harry slowly spreading on the huge sofa. Scarhead found an acceptable place for himself lying on Harry's legs. 

As expected, Harry fell asleep right there without even realising it. What he didn’t expect was waking up in the morning with a soft blanket draped over him and a note stuck to a steamy mug, placed on the coffee table.

_Went for our morning walk with Sh. Didn’t want to wake you up._

_Hope the mug is still warm when you wake from your ‘nap’, Sleeping Beauty ~Draco_

Harry flushed bright red. He held his face in his hands. Oh god, what was he, a teenager? 

His brain froze to a halt when he caught sight of the clock over the mantle.

“Shit.” He was going to be late for work again. He took his things and ran out of the flat, only realising that he hadn’t left a note to Draco when he was already at work.

It was Friday, so he arrived home late in the afternoon, after a couple of beers with his peers. He looked at his watch and then up to the windows he supposed was Draco’s flat. Was it too late to say hello and thank him in person? It probably was. There weren’t any lights on the second floor.

Harry went to his flat and tucked himself in bed waiting for sleep to overtake him.

***

_“Scarhead!”_

Harry woke up startled. The feeling of being in the wrong place swamped his brain and his senses again.

He looked at the time in his phone: 3 in the morning. Of course.

After sleeping like a log on Draco’s sofa last night, he thought last week’s string of 3 AM awakenings might finally have ended. But it seemed that he would have no such luck. He stood up and dragged his feet to the kitchen rubbing his eyes with one hand. A warm drink would be nice. 

He looked out the window at the sky while waiting for the milk to warm on the stove: no clouds nor snow tonight. A sudden brightness on a lower floor on the nearer building make him look down. Ah, it was his sleepless companion. He smiled faintly and stepped away from the window to prepare his chocolate. It was reassuring in a way that he wasn't the only one awake in this big city. It was difficult not feeling lonely even when there were millions of people around.

He went back to the window and blew his mug. The familiar scent of the cocoa was reassuring enough that the unsettling feeling almost disappeared. 

Harry looked down and his stomach fluttered when he saw Draco through the lit up window. He tried to catch his attention but Draco wasn’t looking up and he soon moved away from the window. 

"Damn it."

Harry put his mug aside and opened his window. The chill of the night made him shiver, his thin pyjamas not nearly enough protection against the cold winter air. He was tempted to yell, but the possibility of having to face the rage of the neighbours stopped him. Barely. He looked around for an alternative and came back with a bowl of sugar cubes.

“This is stupid,” he muttered but threw one sugar cube through the window anyway. He had good aim, and the cube hit the correct window, but it didn’t make the noise he expected. Draco probably hadn’t even noticed. It did upset a stray cat down below, though. It seemed the noise of the scared animal colliding with a rubbish bin was enough to wake up some neighbours, as some more windows lit up, but there wasn’t any movement in Draco’s flat.

Harry frowned and looked around trying to find something else. Maybe an ice cube?

“Harry?” He turned and saw Draco looking up, frowning.

“Hey!”

“What are you doing?”

“I was trying to call your attention.”

Draco’s face was half-hidden in the shadow but Harry could tell that he had raised an eyebrow. “Mine and half of the neighbourhood’s, apparently. Don’t you know how to make a call?”

“I don’t have your number.”

“I saved it on your phone, you dumbass.”

“Did you?” Harry straightened up and went inside looking for his device. “You did,” he muttered moments later when he found a new name between his sparse contacts. He dialled and went back to the window. Draco appeared a moment later holding a phone. “Hey,” he said before the other man could speak.

“Do you know what time is it?” Draco asked. 

“I couldn’t sleep. It seems neither could you.”

“With your deduction skills, you should pursue a career as a copper.”

“And with your sarcasm, you should be one of those pharmacists that think that all their clients are stupid,” Harry retorted. “Are you mad at me?” he asked after a pause, leaning on the windowsill.

Draco sighed. “Not really. I’m not a people person at 3 A.M. in the morning.”

“Mhm. Good to know,” he said smiling. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for letting me sleep on your sofa.”

“Is that so? I thought you had disappeared for good.”

“I… had to run to get to work on time. Are you sure you’re not angry with me?”

Draco hugged his torso with one arm while holding his phone closer. Harry waited. “It’s nothing, I’m just tired,” Draco said. 

“Ok.”

“Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Draco.”

***

**_Harry P.- Sat. 1:11 PM_ **

_Want to go to drink a coffee? I know a place_

Harry fidgeted. Maybe it was too much to assume that Draco would be willing to meet up with him. Not that he was asking for a date. It wasn't, or was it? 

The minutes passed, and Harry was starting to consider sending another message to take the invitation back when his phone chimed. 

**_Draco - Sat. 1:40 PM_ **

_You pay._

*** 

**_Harry P. - Sun. 19:05 PM_ **

_That film was weird_

**_Draco - Sun. 19:07 PM_ **

_You’ve said that before. Are you sure it hasn’t damaged your delicate brain?_

**_Harry P. - Mon. 3:12 AM_ **

_Great, now I'm awake, and I can't stop thinking about that film_

_***_

**_Draco - Mon. 2:40 PM_ **

_I tried that place you recommended to me._

**_Harry P. - Mon. 2:41 PM_ **

_And?_

**_Draco - Mon. 2:43 PM_ **

_I admit I was surprised._

**_Harry P. - Mon. 2:45 PM_ **

_They have good food, and they are very friendly_

**_Draco - Mon. 2:48 PM_ **

_No, I mean I was surprised you knew such a fine place._

**_Harry P. - Mon. 2:51 PM_ **

_Git_

_***_

**_Harry P. - Tue. 3:09 AM_ **

_I woke up again at the same hour, can you believe? I guess is an unavoidable habit now. I should look for a job with a night shift_

**_Harry P. - Tue. 3:12 AM_ **

_I think you were in my dream_

**_Potter - Tue. 3:18 AM_ **

_Hey, are you awake? There’s light on your window_

**_Draco - Tue. 3:21 AM_ **

_Go to sleep, stalker._

***

On Wednesday Harry left work late again. He definitely should look for another job, this one wasn’t his thing. He looked at his watch; on the bright side, he probably would find Draco taking a walk with Scarhead and could talk a bit with him before crashing on bed. Until the cursed hour when he would inevitably wake up, that is.

When he was close to their buildings he saw Draco sat on a bench, his eyes lost in the distance, Scarhead sniffling idly on the near bushes. 

“Hey,” Harry said, “you’re going to freeze to death if you stay still in this winter chill.”

Draco looked at him with a frown. “Would you care?”

It was Harry’s turn to frown. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I care?”

Draco stood up and looked down at him, taking advantage of his height. “Do you care about me, Potter?”

Harry frown deepened. It was the first time Draco called him by his surname. “Of course I do,” he said in all seriousness. “We are… friends.” Didn’t Draco consider him his friend?

Draco’s expression looked pained. His eyes searched Harry’s before he lowered and fixed his stare on his polished shoes. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to tell something but closed it before he could voice his thoughts.

“Dinner?” Harry asked.

Draco raised his head. “You pay.”

***

_Harry walked purposefully through Diagon Alley, his Auror robes billowing behind him. He despised coming down to Knockturn Alley, most of all at this ungodly hour, but he needed a talk with that nuisance Malfoy and the git didn’t deigned come to the Ministry as requested._

_He stomped into the tiny shop startling the figure hunched over a heavy ancient tome with a_ lumos _on his wand. The small windows weren’t enough to brighten the space inside, and the scarce candles dripping on the cramped shelves didn’t light enough to read. Half the floor was covered in tight drawings and symbols._

_Malfoy closed the voluminous book with a thump._

_“To what I owe the honour, Auror Potter?”_

_“Stop that, you know why I’m here.”_

_Draco put a finger on his lips in mocking imitation of a thoughtful pose. “Let me guess, am I for any chance, suspect of a horrendous crime that I haven’t committed? Like the seven other ones before that? But who cares for proof,” he finished throwing his hands in the air._

_“Your presence was required for interrogation, and you didn’t show.”_

_“It wasn’t an official request, Potter, and I got clients to attend.”_

_Harry looked around: phials with differents substances were carefully placed on wooden holders over one desk, some shelves were occupied by ancient books but most of them were covered with glass containers with potion ingredients; a cauldron was placed over a low fire. But no clients on sight._

_“They come and go, Potter,” Draco said, reading his mind. “If you paid attention on class some potions need days for brewing. They can’t wait right here the whole time.”_

_There wasn’t a place to sit, Harry could concede that._

_“You could spare some hours and come to the DMLE office.”_

_“No Potter, I know how it is. You and your lot hold me there for several hours for pointless questions and in the meantime, my potions go to waste, my clients go away, and I’m humiliated once again.”_

_Harry frowned. “That’s not true, we are thorough in our work, and you were treated like any other suspect.”_

_“But that’s the thing!” Draco bellowed. “I’m not called because you got a clue on me that makes me a suspect, you call me because I am and always will be an ex- death eater! And that alone makes me a suspect. That mistake will chase me until I’m old. Or dead. And in the meantime, I can’t afford losing a client! I can’t afford losing supplies or brewed potions! I can’t even afford a decent shop!” Draco’s voice had become raspy and broken, his hair was dishevelled, and he seemed in the verge of tears._

_Harry looked at him perplexed before his rage burst. “If you are insinuating that we treat you unfairly…!”_

_“For Merlin’s sake Potter!"_

_"We've found the daughter of Ambrosius Flume dead, and someone told us that they saw her leaving your shop. In fact, it’s the last time someone saw her. Alive.”_

_Malfoy blanched. “I don’t understand.”_

_“You are our primary suspect, Malfoy.”_

_“It wasn’t an official request, I didn’t think… But… Potter, you have to believe me, I didn’t do anything,” he whispered, all the rage and anger gone._

_“Did she or did she not came here yesterday morning?”_

_“She did, she did,” he said looking briefly at the cauldron, “but I didn’t sell her anything. She… she wanted something dangerous and I didn’t…” He looked again at the bubbling cauldron in the side of the shop, right next to a pentagram with runes in it._

_“What’s that?” Harry asked and Malfoy’s shoulders slumped._

_“Would you believe me if I tell you that I’m just doing research?”_

_Harry looked at him: Malfoy looked haggard, almost defeated, but his gaze was intent, pleading; he was gripping one hand with the other, tense and expectant. Considering their history, he wasn’t sure he could trust Malfoy’s sincerity. His instinct was to doubt anything he said; he wouldn’t put past Malfoy to try and manipulate him. Harry wondered briefly if he would overcome veritaserum in an interrogatory._

_Truth is that all he could see wasn’t a man feeling guilty, it was a man desperate to be listened to._

_Harry crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”_

_Malfoy inhaled and exhaled slowly. “She came yesterday morning asking for something I couldn’t… I wouldn’t provide. She was very specific, I assumed she did her research.”_

_“What was it?”_

_“It was something I’ve only read in passing before, about…” He paused, hesitating._

_“Malfoy,” Harry said in warning._

_“About second chances. She said she wanted her fiancé back.”_

_Harry hummed. He heard something about an unfortunate accident not long ago. “You can’t bring back the dead.”_

_“I know! That’s why I said no. But I got curious and did some research. It seemed it was a different thing entirely.”_

_“And the cauldron over there…”_

_“That’s part of my research.”_

_“You said you wouldn’t provide it.”_

_“It’s… not for selling.”_

_Harry stood there, quiet for a moment before speaking again. “What for, then?”_

_Malfoy extended his arms, palms up as if exhibiting himself and his minuscule shop. “C’mon Potter, you’re not that dense.”_

_Harry turned and walked closer to the cauldron._

_“Be careful!” Malfoy pleaded, “it seems it’s very unstable. The text I found was written in runes so I...”_

_A sudden crack of apparition out in the street cut him mid-sentence, the loud uproar that followed filtered, distorted, through the door, until some words were intelligible._

_“... let me go! Where is he? Where is that son of a…”_

_Ambrosius Flume made an appearance in the tiny room, upsetting shelves and jars. His face was red with rage and his eyes puffed with tears._

_“You!” He said pointing at Malfoy with his wand._

_Harry raised his own and positioned between the two. “Mr Flume, lower your wand, immediately.”_

_The man seemed to falter at the tone in Harry’s voice, but soon, his face crumbled, and he raised his wand to strike with a curse. Harry cast a protego as fast as he could, but something exploded, and everything faded to black._

***

Harry sat up in his bed, startled.

“That was a weird dream.” He tried to calm himself, tried to make sense of the images that plagued his brain. And then it clicked: a sense of rightness, of belonging. “I’m Harry Potter and I’m a wizard,” he breathed.

Suddenly, everything felt surreal, like if the right here and right now was a dream, and he wasn’t really awake; like the real world was the one he saw moments before.

He rushed to the coat hanger, grabbed the first thing at hand to put it over his pyjama, and ran outside. He didn’t feel the snow hitting his face nor the one under his bare feet. He didn’t bother with the lift and ran up the stairs to Draco’s flat. To Malfoy’s.

The sound of his fist over the door echoed loud in the corridor. A beat later, the door opened.

“Potter!”

“You knew!” Harry yelled pushing Malfoy inside his flat.

“What?” 

With the force of Harry’s momentum the door hit the wall and bounced until it closed with a bang behind him.

“You knew!” Harry repeated. Malfoy opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to speak. “And you didn’t tell a thing!”

“I… had my suspicions.”

“You called me Potter.”

“What?”

“You stopped using my first name! You knew! Why did… what were you waiting for?” Malfoy closed his eyes and gulped. His muttered words didn’t reach Harry’s ears. “What did you say?”

“I thought…” He stopped and opened his eyes to look at Harry in the eyes. He didn’t talk. He just shrugged. The git.

Harry raised his hands, helpless. “What are we going to do to fix this?”

Draco groaned and dragged his feet on the floor until he reached the sofa and let himself drop ungracefully on it. Then, he rested his elbows on his knees and put his head on his hands, messing his hair.

“Malfoy?”

“I don’t know ok?” He said glaring at Harry. “And… honestly, Potter, I don’t want to.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, befuddled.

“I don’t want to go back from… wherever we are.”

Harry threw his hands in the air and paced. “What are you talking about, Malfoy? This is not real! This…” Harry paused looking around him. “It’s because of this flat? This is what you want? Being surrounded by luxury and… and…”

“No, Harry, you idiot.” Harry turned around to look at him, surprised by the use of his name. Malfoy shrugged. “This was nice,” he said toeing the expensive carpet, “but that’s not it.”

“What then?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stood up. “Hot chocolate?” He asked traipsing to the kitchen.

“Er, yeah.” Harry watched as he moved purposefully to prepare two mugs.

“I saw your face.”

“Uh?”

“In the Great Hall. Drinking chocolate the first breakfast. In first year. It seemed you hadn’t tasted anything so good before.”

Harry frowned. It was true, it was the first time he had tasted it. He had forgotten about it. “I hadn’t tried it before.”

The mugs clinked and Malfoy turned to look at him but kept silent.

“Horrible childhood. I moved on.” Harry stated matter of factly.

“Mine was a happy one. But here’s the thing: there’s nothing for me to come back to.”

“Nothing at all?”

Malfoy hunched over the counter, his back to Harry, his expression hidden.

“I’ll help you with the case, you know?” Harry said after a pause. “If you’ve done nothing, you got nothing to fear.” When he didn’t respond, Harry walked closer.

“What if I like it here?” Malfoy asked. 

“This is not real, don’t you feel it? This is… a dream.” Harry protested.

“Then I don’t want to wake up.” He murmured.

Harry frowned. He raised his hand to touch Malfoy’s back but stopped halfway. He suspected Malfoy didn’t want his pity.

“Ok, now what?” Harry asked as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses. That tarnished them so he took it off to clean them and looked up at Malfoy. He was staring at him, a little frown settled between his eyebrows. He looked... sad. 

"Chocolate," Malfoy said offering Harry the mug.

“Thanks.”

They sipped in silence, Malfoy lost in thought and unaware of Harry observing him. It was understandable, really, that Malfoy liked his life here, wherever ‘here’ was. In all these years, Harry has seen him struggling, isolated… the only times he has seen him out of his shop or in another context outside his job-related interactions (and it’s true, it was always in interrogations) it didn’t go well. People didn’t treat him well; his surname still was a liability.

He had gained a reputation as a very competent potioneer, though. That’s why his modest business was flourishing.

“I like your shop,” Harry said.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s small and cramped with stuff but… it’s something you can call your own.”

Malfoy scoffed. “It’s rented. And my benefits go with the abusive price the owner rises now and then. Lucky no one else wants to rent me their place, otherwise, I would have told him to fuck off.”

“Do you like it? I mean, running your own business, and that stuff.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Don’t you miss it? I miss doing magic, now that I remember it exists.”

Draco scoffed. “Potter, if you are trying to talk me into going back…”

“Is it working?”

Draco laughed, even when he was probably trying to suppress it. “Okay, you stubborn prick, I wasn’t kidding when I told you I don’t know how to fix this. It wasn't done properly, so I suspect it may wear off somehow, as we have been remembering things… but it’s a long shot.”

“Okay.” Harry Paused. “What if that’s not the case?”

“Then I would suggest making yourself comfortable because I don’t know if there is magic or not in this reality; or even if there is if we could find some help.”

“Okay,” Harry repeated. “No problem, I was considering quitting my job anyway, so I’ll have time.”

They ended sitting on the sofa, talking and making plans in case the thing didn’t really wear off.

It was nearly morning. Harry was drowsing, with Scarhead on top of him and a blanket draped over his legs, when Draco spoke in a murmur. Almost like he didn’t want Harry to hear.

“If we go back, would you keep talking with me?”

Harry peered at him through half-closed eyelids. “‘Course. What kind of question is that?”

Draco smiled. “Don’t mind me. Keep snoring.”

“I don’t do that,” he protested, but closed his eyes and settled more comfortably on the sofa. He wondered if what Draco really wanted to ask was if they still would be friends. Because Harry though that, without their previous prejudices, they had become ones.

He even liked the git. Like… _really_ like him. 

***

Consciousness came back slowly. Harry reached for the blanket but his hands only grabbed a soft bed sheet, the heavy weight of Scarhead was gone, he wondered if he had moved to a bed at one moment in the night.

Then a loud noise startled completely awake.

“Harry!" Ron burst into the guard followed by a flustered healer and a smiling Hermione. "We heard you had come to your senses!"

"Mr Weasley, this is a place for recovering, we need to be quiet," the healer, a diminutive witch, pleaded. 

"What happened?" Harry asked. 

"You and Mr Malfoy were… unconscious for a while, until early this morning when the monitor charms changed," the healer said. 

"It was chaos, mate. All that fumes and… stuff in that shop."

"The healers were at a loss," Hermione said, earning a glare from the healer present in the room, “They said that it was like you weren't really here, which is nonsense, really. There were some travel spells written on the floor but it was obvious they didn't Were activated in the explosion. We feared some substances were interfering, and you wouldn't wake up, but…"

"Where is Draco?" Harry interrupted. Everyone went silent. Harry blinked, fear rising in his throat

It couldn’t be. He didn’t…

“For the love of Merlin, could you lot please be silent?” Harry turned to the voice. There it was the git, peering from the other side of the partition curtain, trying to maintain his dignity in a hospital gown. Harry jumped forward and hold him in a tight embrace.

“I feared you didn’t make it back,” Harry whispered in his ear.

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you around.”

Harry squeezed him a bit and then, something dawned on him.

“Did you call your dog after me?”

Draco flushed. “I… don’t know where that came from, honest.”


End file.
